


A day in summer

by Leeheon



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dagor Bragollach Aftermath, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeheon/pseuds/Leeheon
Summary: After Fingolfin's death, Maedhros comes to Hithlum.





	A day in summer

On a day of summer long-awaited Fingon sat the throne at Mithrim in what Galdor would have called his 'most terrifying High King-ish manner', but in fact he was the one terrified. Though war had indeed slowed its pace, for a while yet travelling was no easy matter, especially for those of the marches. The Marches, he really ought to say, since Dorthonion had been razed. And thus, only months after Fingon son of Fingolfin claimed lordship over all that his father had ruled, did Maedhros Feanarion ride over Beleriand to come at last unto Hithlum, putting an end to his long silence, the eldest descendant of Finwe alive on Hither Shores. Fingon was justly terrified.

A thick clothe of blue and his sword, sheathed, lay across his lap; gold threaded his hair and the hangings behind; he set his shoulders firm. The marble floor drank up his cousin's footsteps and spat it back tenfold, and Fingon duly noted the leather of his boots were scuffed. Absurdly he regretted - what? his meager efforts in rehabilitation if not restoration? but then Maedhros had already crossed half the hall, leaving bemused lords and captains in his wake. A lone black gem darkled on his breast. And many there straightened up, forgetting frayed sleeves and weather-worn chains, strengthened as Fingon realized the authority of his house would not avail to do. The son of Feanor turned all hurts trivial by his mere presence, of absolute inconsequence after all.

Maedhros did not stop, not even when he was all but a foot from the dais. He stepped on it and yet came nearer until they almost touched. Fingon paled. Maedhros's face was calm, contemplative, inscrutable. And then in  one fluid motion he knelt, sideways for he was much too close to the throne, and turning bowed his head until Fingon felt the weight of his brow on his knee. His hand he laid there as well, close to the hilt of the sword, the thumb near his own mouth. And if this was an act it was exactly the sort that Fingon despised, but on a sudden he knew, now, that Nelyafinwe would give him liege as he had not done to Fingolfin, not because it was Fingon who lived but for Fingolfin who had died.

And so it was that Fingon felt an immense measure of weariness, in this world a world away from Elvenhome.

 

 

Maedhros looked up, and saw Fingon smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by and written for a friend.


End file.
